The morning was quiet and peaceful. Rafael, Malrek, and Draven sat together, the aftermath of last night still heavy in the air. "That power of yours…" Malrek said, leaning forward with barely contained excitement. "It's insane. Healing, weapons, who knows what else you can pull off? One hell of an ability."
Rafael said nothing, but Draven nodded in agreement. "I've seen a lot in the army," he added. "And I've never seen anything like that." Malrek grinned. "I still wanna see it again. Preferably without the whole backyard turning into an armory."
Before Rafael could respond, footsteps approached. Sara entered the room, carrying bowls of steaming soup and fresh bread. She placed one in front of each of them. "Enough talk about powers," she said gently. "Eat."
She sat down with them, and for a moment, silence settled over the table. Then Rafael spoke. "I want to go to the main province." Every spoon stopped mid-motion. Sara looked up slowly. "What did you say?" Rafael met her gaze. "I want to go to the main province."
Sara set her bowl down, concern tightening her expression. "Why?" He hesitated—just long enough. He couldn't tell her he was going to find the key to hell. "I want to find work," Rafael said. "A real job." Malrek blinked. Draven raised an eyebrow.
"But there are jobs here," Sara said quickly. "Plenty of them." Rafael shook his head. "This village only offers so much. We're surviving on bounty money and Draven's military pay. That won't last forever."
Sara looked down at her hands.
"Sooner or later, we'll need something stable," Rafael continued. "And the main province has opportunities this place never will." He paused, then added softly, "You don't have to come. But please… don't try to stop me."
Sara opened her mouth to speak__"Rafael is strong," Draven said, cutting in. "Stronger than most people I've met." Malrek nodded eagerly. "With his power? I don't think there's much that could hurt him." Sara exhaled slowly. "The main province is dangerous," she said. "Especially during a war."
"The war is on pause," Draven replied. "And he won't be alone." Rafael turned to him. "What?" "I'm going with you," Draven said calmly. Rafael stared, stunned. Malrek grinned. "If Rafael's going, I'm going too. Sounds fun."
Sara looked at the three of them—her sons and the boy she had taken in—and her chest tightened. "If something were to happen to you…" she began. "Nothing will," Rafael said quickly. "We'll be fine." He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "We'll be like the three musketeers."
Silence.
Draven blinked. "The what?" Malrek frowned. "Is that some kind of elite squad?" Rafael froze. "…Never mind," he muttered, looking away. Despite herself, Sara let out a small laugh.
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Rafael walked down the familiar dirt road, hands in his pockets, mind restless.
He was headed toward the church to meet Vivian, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere—toward the main province, the roads that led there, and what kind of future awaited him beyond this village. How would they even get there? By caravan? Escort? On foot? Frantic footsteps shattered his thoughts.
A girl came running from the direction of town. She was sprinting straight toward him. Rafael slowed, confusion flickering across his face as he watched her stumble closer. Before he could speak, the girl collapsed at his feet, dropping to her knees.
"Please… help me…" Her voice trembled, choked with fear. She looked terrible. Blood trickled from her nose. Her clothes were torn and stained red. Bruises marred her face, and her fingers—twisted at unnatural angles—were clearly broken.
She grabbed Rafael's hand with shaking strength, clutching it as if her life depended on it. "Please… save me." Rafael looked into her eyes. Green eyes. His breath caught. "…Sophia?" The daughter of the village chief.
Confusion surged through him. Who would dare harm her like this? "What's going on?" Rafael asked quickly. Sophia's lips trembled. "They're chasing me. If they catch me… they'll kill me." "Who—" Hoof-beats thundered down the road. Four men on horseback emerged from the direction she had come from, weapons already in hand.
Sophia's grip tightened. "That's them! Please—don't let them take me!" She scrambled behind Rafael, hiding against his back. Rafael exhaled slowly. He couldn't ignore this.
One of the men sneered. "Hand over the girl, and we'll let you walk away." Rafael met his gaze calmly. "Unfortunately for you," he said, stepping forward, "she's under my protection now." The man laughed. "Pesky little brat. I'll kill you." He dismounted and lunged.
Rafael saw it all before it happened. In a blink, shadows poured from beneath his feet, twisting and condensing into a blade in his hand. The man's sword never reached him. Rafael had severed his hand clean off. The sword clattered to the ground—still gripped by fingers that no longer belonged to anyone.
The man stared at the stump, eyes wide. Then he screamed. Rafael didn't hesitate. The shadow blade flashed again. The man's head rolled across the dirt. Silence. The remaining riders froze in horror.
Rafael turned slowly, blade pointed at them. "Who's next?" Two men charged at once, still mounted, trying to overwhelm him with momentum.
Rafael jumped.
He soared above them effortlessly, landing behind their horses. Before either could react, he was already moving. He mounted one horse in a single fluid motion, drove his blade through the rider's chest, then leapt again—slicing the second man from saddle to shoulder.
Both bodies hit the ground lifelessly. The fourth man—who had stayed back—raised a bow. The arrow flew. It grazed Rafael's neck. Pain flared. Rafael's eyes darkened. He hurled his shadow sword. It pierced the man's throat mid-scream.
The road fell silent once more. Blood soaked the dirt. Rafael turned back— Sophia was gone. His heart skipped. Then he saw it. A fifth man, riding hard, hauling Sophia across his horse. She was screaming, struggling weakly.
Rafael clenched his jaw. I've already crossed the line, I have to finish this. An idea formed. The shadows beneath him surged. A horse rose from the darkness—pitch black, its body wrapped in flowing strands of shadow, as if burning with black fire. It snorted silently, eyes glowing faintly.
Rafael mounted it effortlessly. The shadow steed exploded forward, catching up to the man in a split second. The kidnapper glanced back—and his face drained of colour. Rafael extended his hand. A massive shadow arm burst forth, reaching across the distance. It gently pulled Sophia free and set her safely behind Rafael on the horse.
Then the shadow fist struck. The man was sent flying off his mount, disappearing into the roadside trees. "That's the last of them," Rafael said calmly. "Let's get somewhere safe." Sophia clung to him weakly. "Th-thank you…" Her body went limp. She fainted.
Rafael rode until the village edge, then dissolved the shadow horse into darkness. He lifted Sophia onto his back and moved quietly through the streets, unwilling to draw attention.
The church doors creaked open.
"Vivian," Rafael called. "I need your help."
She halted her prayer and rushed to them. "Oh my gods…" She led them quickly into the basement, guiding Rafael to lay Sophia on the bed. Vivian boiled water, whispered prayers, light gathering faintly around her hands as she worked.
When she finished, she turned to Rafael, eyes sharp. "What happened?" Rafael shook his head. "I don't know." He looked at Sophia's unconscious form. "We'll have to ask her when she wakes up."